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David is bluntly shoved aside. Hiro scrambles to grab him, but the other boy tumbles off of the bed with a squawk, a sound so loud it hurls him straight out of his trance like a sling shot. He's back, brain completely rebooted - online. And for the first time that might actually be a very bad thing.
"What the hell."
Tadashi is towering over the foreign boy, nostrils flaring, fists clenched tight like vice grips. He's angry. He's really, really angry.
"My little brother, David? Are you - shitting me!"
Great. Spectacular. Just fantastic.
Hiro's so screwed.
Hiro has a "special" friend, Tadashi gets jealous, and the Hamada household is in for some serious drama because these boys are bad at dealing with feelings.
They'd ended up in the linen closet on the third floor of the girl's dormitory, shelves shoved against their spines, bedsheets falling onto their heads, the smell of laundry detergent mixing with muffled groans and sweat. Tadashi wasn't the type to just - do it. And they hadn't. Not really. Mostly, because he hadn't even expected Hiro to be into guys. Or anything really. Not that Hiro was the lazy type. He was just the I-was-meant-to-other-things type. Like kissing guys. Like screwing their brains out. Like loving them to the moon. Then telling them, 'Let's keep this platonic'.
Hiro was crazy. Tadashi was crazy for liking it.
HERE, PORN. SORT OF. *SHITTY BALLERINA TWIRL*